


take as much as you can grab with two hands

by Wanderingchronicle



Series: no choir [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode 26 spoilers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Talking About Your Feelings, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderingchronicle/pseuds/Wanderingchronicle
Summary: My own take on what happened inside the tent during episode 26.--Molly cracks open an eye, one corner of his mouth pulling up slightly. He raises an arm up in a silent invitation, and Caleb folds himself down quietly before he can change his mind.





	take as much as you can grab with two hands

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers to follow. Not to worry -- this is a fluffy zone. 
> 
> Everybody take care of yourselves.

_ You're a 'real man', and you do what you can _

_ You only take as much as you can grab with two hands _

_ With your big heart, you praise God above _

_ But how's that working out for you, honey? _

_ Do you feel loved? _

 

\-- florence and the machine, “patricia”

 

It’s a cold night, and the decision to huddle together seems like a good one, logistically speaking. 

Or so Caleb tells himself, unfastening his book holsters and placing them on the floor. Molly has already flopped down and closes his eyes, because of course Molly has few compunctions about this sort of thing, and Beau is in the process of curling up next to his side. Keg sits on Beau’s other side, fiddling with something at her belt.

He looks at Nott, who shakes her head quietly.  _ Traitor _ , he mouths, before sitting down next to Mollymauk.

Molly cracks open an eye, one corner of his mouth pulling up slightly. He raises an arm up in a silent invitation, and Caleb folds himself down quietly before he can change his mind.

There’s a soft, raspy hum in his ear, then an arm comes into view, draping loosely over his midriff. It’s not an embrace exactly, and there’s still a few inches between his back and Molly’s chest -- close enough for Caleb to feel Molly’s breath against the back of his head, far enough away that apart from the arm on his waist they’re not really touching.

“All the heat’s going to escape,” Caleb murmurs after a moment, desperately thankful that he’s facing away from Mollymauk and there’s no way he can see the expression on his face.

For a moment, he wonders if Molly is already asleep, or that he didn’t hear. “If you don’t mind,” Mollymauk says eventually. He sounds hesitant, almost, nervous in the sweet sort of way Caleb remembers from awkward requests to dance or to go to dinner as a much younger and more innocent man.

Caleb sighs and rolls over, coming to face Mollymauk -- or he would, if his face hadn’t ended up in Molly’s sternum. Up close, Molly’s chest is a tapestry of scars the thin white fabric of his shirt does absolutely nothing to hide. He smells like incense and stale sweat and the warm, animal smell of living bodies, and it’s oddly soothing.

“I don’t mind,” he says firmly, winding an arm around Molly’s waist, “it is cold, and we are friends.”

Molly’s arm drapes itself loosely over him, and a few moments later he feels the telltale weight of Nott against his back. “Sure,” Molly says agreeably, “this is certainly much better than being cold, right?”

Another arm wraps around Molly’s ribs, and Beau makes a disgruntled noise. “We are never speaking of this again,” she says, but there’s no real bite to her words.

Caleb huffs a laugh into Molly’s collar, dismissing the resulting shiver as a result of the heat, and closes his eyes. Gradually, the noises of people breathing slowly even out, and Keg begins to snore. Nott rumbles against his spine, the noise slow and soothing.

However, Mollymauk’s heart rate doesn’t slow, thundering under his cheek like he’s running from some unseen pursuer. It’s not possible to look at his face, seeing as his chin is resting on top of Caleb’s head, but Caleb knows full well that people’s faces lie much better than their bodies do.

“Mollymauk,” he says quietly, “are you alright?”

Molly goes very still, and if anything his heart kicks in his chest before speeding up. “Fine,” he says, “why do you ask?”

Caleb hums noncommittally, lifting his head slightly so his words aren’t muffled by the fabric of Molly’s shirt. “Your heart is racing,” he says, “and you are not going to sleep, like that.”

“Leftover adrenaline, I guess,” Molly says, “it’s been a long and awful day.”

It’s a plausible lie, but still a lie. There’s a tinge of guilt in curling closer, in shifting his arm to rub circles in Molly’s back. It’s just so they can all sleep, he tells himself, but there’s a dizzy thrill in lying so close, in the muscles of Molly’s back under his splayed fingers.

Molly inhales slowly, holds his breath, exhales. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler,” he murmurs, tail curling restlessly around Caleb’s calf.

There’s not really a good way for him to answer that question. He’s not, not really, and this is just a selfish exception, taking advantage of the situation at hand to lie close to Molly and feel the warmth radiating off his body and pretend that it’s something else, something Caleb doesn’t deserve, has never deserved.

“Not often,” he says instead, which is still the truth, “but it is cold, ja, and this is not bad. You should rest, it is not likely Beauregard will ever be caught dead snuggling you again.”

Molly laughs softly, “Until it gets cold again.”

“Ja,” Caleb agrees, “until it gets cold again.”

He places a hand on Molly’s chest, and the heartbeat under his fingertips is slower and steadier than it was. Satisfied, he tucks his head back under Mollymauk’s chin, sighing as he makes himself comfortable.

Molly giggles above him, and he shifts away slightly and makes an exasperated noise. His response is a pat on the back and another giggle. “Your face is warm,” Molly says, his voice curling at the edges with suppressed laughter.

“Maybe,” Caleb grumbles, “maybe if you wore a shirt that wasn’t constantly open you would not lose heat so fast, ja?”

He feels rather than hears Molly quake with silent laughter, the tail still wrapped around his leg giving him a friendly squeeze. There’s a soft sigh from above him, then the barely audible noise of Molly pressing a kiss to his hairline. He’s a terrible person for letting it happen, for stealing this affection he does not deserve. But tonight he is a selfish man, as with all other nights, and in answer he presses his mouth briefly against Molly’s exposed collarbone, feeling the texture of thin white scars against his lips. Molly shudders, but doesn’t speak, does not reproach him for taking more than he is due.

Eventually, he feels Molly’s breathing even out, his grip relax, and then Caleb finds himself dragged down into sleep, lulled by the rise and fall of Molly’s breathing and the steady rhythm in his chest.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed the fic machine.
> 
> As always, I can be contacted on tumblr @ wanderingchronicle and discord @ VoxLexicon#4486.


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